


Someplace Happy

by miladydewinter



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Foxes, Headcanon, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Season/Series 05, Wolves, terrible ouat naming policies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7407259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miladydewinter/pseuds/miladydewinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan was the love of Neal Cassidy's life. But after he dies?</p><p>OR Neal meets Graham Humbert in the afterlife and they fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someplace Happy

**Author's Note:**

> You can blame my rp group for this. Or, more specifically, our Baelfire. We had these two get together during an AU, and I've been shipping them ever since.
> 
> This fic is basically my head-canon for s5.

When someone dies, one of two things can happen.

The first is that they join Hades in the Underworld. There they reside and build a life for themselves until such an opportunity comes along that they can tie up any loose ends and move on, both metaphorically and physically, as finishing all that needs finishing means one can travel to the second place.

The second place is for those who have done everything they needed to do. They have no business left unfinished. They are thus free to spend the rest of eternity as they desire, and they can be happy.

When Graham Humbert died, he fell firmly into the second category. The Evil Queen’s curse upon him had been lifted and he could remember who he was and all that he’d been through. He’d set the Saviour on the path to freeing the rest of Storybrooke from a similar fate. This was Graham’s destiny, and it had been fulfilled.

The second place is designed to cater for every individual. Graham headed straight for the forest, for that was where he’d always felt most comfortable, and built himself a cabin out of logs. It wasn’t big or magnificent, but he wouldn’t have wanted it to be. It was his, and he was safe there, and that was all that mattered.

He fashioned himself a bow and a set of arrows, and he hunted his food as he had back in the Enchanted Forest. But he only ever killed what he needed, for that was his rule, and if he ever found he’d wound up cooking too much for himself, he would leave it out for the wolves.

This was Graham’s afterlife. It was simple and it was plain, but after everything that had happened in Storybrooke, it was what he wanted.

Until Neal Cassidy died, that is.

Neal Cassidy also went straight to the second place, for he too had nothing left to finish off in the land of the living. The town he wound up in was not to his taste, so he bought a suitcase and filled it with clothes, food and wash supplies before setting off in search of somewhere better.

Neal was no stranger to wandering. He slept where he could- in cars, up trees- and after a few weeks he stumbled across a small cottage in the woods. It wasn’t big or magnificent, but it had a roof and, judging by the smoke pouring out of the chimney, a fireplace.

It was raining that day, and the clothes Neal was wearing were already soaked through. He hadn’t realised how cold he was until he thought of how warm a fire would be, and then suddenly his teeth were chattering.

He went up to the house and knocked.

Graham hadn’t really had any visitors up until that point, unless one counted the forest animals. The knock therefore startled him, and he ended up throwing his bowl of deer stew over himself.

He hissed slightly as the warm liquid soaked through his skirt and onto the skin beneath.

Outside, the rain grew heavier and Neal, thinking perhaps he hadn’t been loud enough the first time, knocked again more forcefully.

“I’m coming!” Graham shouted, putting what was left of his dinner on the coffee table and looking down at his shirt with disdain.

Deciding he didn’t have time to get a new shirt _and_ stay in the visitor’s good graces, he pulled it over his head and tossed it in the vague direction of the wash basket as he went to the door.

Neal wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find on the other side of the door. It definitely wasn’t a shirtless man. And he definitely did not expect his first thought upon seeing a shirtless man to be _wow_.

“Can I help you?” Graham asked.

“Um,” Neal looked upwards pointedly at the overcast sky.

 __“__ Oh, right, of course,” Graham stepped aside. “Come in.”

Neal entered the small log cabin and looked around. It was neat and cosy. The kitchen and living area were one room, separated partially by the kitchen counter. Two doors led off to separate rooms- presumably a bathroom and a bedroom.

“I don’t know what realm you’re from, but I haven’t figured out what sort of magic is used to create indoor plumbing,” Graham explained, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. Handsome strangers showing up in the rain wasn’t something he was used to. “There’s a tank round the back of the cabin to collect water, and I have a bathtub and a fireplace if you want to heat some up for a bath, though.”

Neal shook his head, not wanting to be a bother. “I’m alright.” He set his suitcase down by his feet and rubbed his frozen hands together, trying to restore feeling in his fingers. “I’ll be out of your hair the moment the rain stops.”

“Will you at least have some stew?” Graham gestured to the pot bubbling away over the fireplace. “I made too much.”

Again, Neal was tempted to decline, but his stomach chose that moment to let out a rather loud rumble. He’d been surviving on energy bars and chocolate for weeks now. “Stew would be nice.”

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable.” Graham said. “I’m going to go put on a shirt.”

Part of Neal wanted to protest, but that would be odd. He didn’t want to scare someone who seemed so nice within five minutes of meeting them by telling them he wouldn’t mind staring at their abs until the rain eased. “I don’t want to get your chair wet,” Neal said instead.

“I can get you a towel.”

“Thanks.”

Neal hovered awkwardly by the kitchen counter while Graham went through one of the doors. He emerged a few seconds later with a shirt pulled on but unbuttoned, leaving Neal a tantalising view of those delicious abs, and a towel slung over one arm. He passed Neal, oblivious to his gawking, and covered the seat of one of the wooden chairs with a fresh towel.

“There you go,” Graham looked up and smiled at Neal. It was dazzling. Neal found himself jealous that one man could be so beautiful. “I’ll get you a bowl for that stew.”

Neal sat as Graham busied himself with fetching a bowl and a spoon from the kitchen area, and then with scooping some of the stew over the fireplace into the bowl for his surprise visitor.

He handed Neal the stew and sat in the chair closest to him, only then moving to button up his shirt.

Neal tried not to stare too much.

“So, um, how’d you die?” Graham asked, aware of the awkward silence and wanting to be rid of it.

“Magic,” Neal replied between spoonfuls of stew. “This is really nice by the way.”

“Magic is a broad subject,” Graham laughed. “Was it a witch?”

Neal nodded. “Zelena.”

“I don’t know of her,” Graham thought for a moment, but no. He had never met a Zelena. It was an interesting enough name. He was sure he’d remember it. “I was killed by the Evil Queen. Murdered, actually. She crushed my heart. Literally.”

“Regina?”

“You know her?”

“Yeah. She’s actually Zelena’s sister, you know.”

“I didn’t know Regina had a sister.”

“Neither did she until recently.”

-

The rain stopped, but Graham found excuses for Neal to stay. It was too dark, too late, the wolves would be hunting. It would be best to wait until the morning. Then, in the morning, well Neal may as well stay for breakfast. Could he hang Neal’s wet clothes up to dry outside? He could wear some of Graham’s in the mean-time.

Neal saw what he was doing, but he had no desire to protest. The moment Graham stopped coming up with excuses for him to stay, he was already planning a thousand more. Enough to keep him there for at least another week.

It had been so long since he’d had a roof over his head, a warm fire, a cooked meal. He wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible.

The gorgeous owner of the log cabin was, of course, just a bonus.

He told himself.

To his relief, the thousands of excuses never needed to come into usage.

“I’ve been thinking,” Graham said over dinner on the fourth day, “and I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay. I can easily build you another bed so you wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch, and we can get some blankets. The town is only a few hours’ walk.”

“I’d like that,” Neal said, somehow managing to keep his voice level and calm despite the fact that his heart was pounding. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

They went shopping for blankets the next day, setting out early in the morning straight after breakfast.

The homewares shop was run by a woman named Tamara. Graham had met her once before, when buying the furnishings he couldn’t make from the forest’s resources for his cabin, and had found her to be a fairly nice person.

It didn’t escape his notice that Neal was hiding behind shelves whenever possible to avoid her line of sight.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked, amused. “You look like a startled rabbit. Did you know Tamara before?”

“You could say that.”

Whatever Neal’s history with the shop owner, he had to get past it when he went with Graham to the counter to pay for the goods. They hadn’t thought to grab a basket when they entered the shop, so Neal was holding the blankets and cushions in his arms. He had to go with Graham. Giving the objects over would involve an awkward sort of shuffle and touching that neither of them wanted. Or rather, that both wanted, but neither was prepared to admit that they wanted.

Neal hoped that his face would remain obscured by the pile of bedding and Tamara would never have to see it, but of course the shopping needed to be placed on the counter so that she could see exactly what they were buying and charge them the right amount for it.

“Neal?” she said, when she saw him. “I never knew you were, uh,” she looked at Graham. “Congratulations. You two are really cute together.”

“Oh, we’re not-” Graham began, but Neal was suddenly overcome by the urge to impress Tamara. To make her jealous, perhaps. To make her see that he was a happy person, living with his happy boyfriend, and that all was well in his life. Uh, death.

So he hooked his arm around Graham’s waist and gazed lovingly into his (very confused, slightly terrified-looking) eyes. “We’ve just moved in together.”

“I’m happy for you,” Tamara said. “Honestly. And I’m so sorry about… everything.”

“It’s alright,” Neal said, although it wasn’t really. Maybe it never would be. She’d lied about loving him, and then tried to kill him and kidnapped his son, and then he’d discovered that she’d been working for his evil grandpa the whole time. Not that she’d known that last part herself until the very end. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Greg’s here, too,” she said it nervously. She still felt guilty for what she did.

“Give him my best,” Neal said, smiling a little too widely.

Graham wrapped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed, and when Neal looked to him with confusion he winked. “Don’t worry, love,” he said, just loud enough for Tamara to hear. “We’ll have your new bed ready as soon as possible, and then we can test how sturdy it is.”

It was just as well he had his arm around Neal, because he wasn’t entirely sure he could trust his legs to support him in that moment.

“$103 please,” Tamara squeaked from behind the counter.

Graham squeezed Neal’s shoulder and pulled away from him to reach into his jeans and retrieve his wallet.

-

Neal had woken up to a lot of different scenarios in his time. His father practicing dark magic. A literal shadow talking to his adopted sister. Police sirens. Then there were the more pleasant things. His father tucking him in, and accidentally jostling him awake. Emma’s sleepy morning kisses.

Then there was this.

It was a warm day. He woke up on Graham’s couch (the bed wasn’t ready yet), stretched and dressed, and went to open the door and let a bit of air in.

He was met with the sight of Graham, shirtless and glistening with sweat, hacking at wood with an axe.

Neal swallowed and tried to go back into the cabin, but it was too late. Graham had seen him and was lowering the axe.

“I wanted to cut the frame for your bed today,” he explained. “We don’t know when we’ll get another day this nice.”

“No, I, uh,” Neal struggled. “I understand.”

“Are you alright?” Graham was approaching him now, concern etching his face, and Neal swore his heart was about to burst. “You look a bit peaky.”

“I’m fine,” Neal insisted. “Just it’s… hot.” The weather, his room-mate. Just what ‘it’ was, was up for interpretation.

Graham stopped in front of him and pressed his palm to Neal’s forehead. Neal tried not to whimper when he pulled it away a moment later. “I’ll get this bed ready as soon as I can, alright? You might just need a decent night’s sleep.”

“Will you help me test how sturdy it is?” Neal asked before he could stop himself.

Graham laughed. “We’ll see.”

__-_ _

The bed wasn’t quite ready that night, and Neal was asleep on the sofa when he was awoken by the sound of the door opening.

Balling his fists in case there was an intruder looking for a fight, he tiptoed into the doorway and looked out.

Graham knelt on the ground, stroking a wolf tenderly behind the ear and holding a piece of raw meat leftover from the meal they’d shared that evening.

Graham looked over at him and smiled.

“It’s alright,” he said, voice calm. “She won’t hurt you. This wolf is as close as I ever got to a mother.”

Unsure, Neal crept out anyway and knelt beside Graham. The wolf was a healthy size, with sharp teeth and calculating eyes. “Do I stroke her?”

“If you like,” Graham said, “just don’t do anything too suddenly. We don’t want to spook her.”

Neal reached out slowly and stroked a line down her nose with one finger. “Like that?”

“You can be a little rougher,” Graham said, as he scruffed the fur around her neck. “She’s not very fragile.”

Neal ruffled the fur on top of the wolf’s head.

“Better,” Graham grinned. “So now you've met my mother.”

“Does she like me?”

Graham studied her expression for a while. “I think so.”

-

Neal’s bed was set up in the living room. He slept perfectly fine in it for a few weeks, but one night he was gripped by a nightmare.

They had eased off since he died, but sometimes they still occurred. This one was particularly vivid. He could feel himself falling through the ground. The betrayal of his father choosing power over him was strong, and heavy in his chest as he fell through the air, for ever and ever and-

When he woke, it took a while for him to shake the sensation of falling.

Vulnerable and tired, he trudged through to Graham’s bedroom and flopped onto bed beside him. The movement jostled the man, who rubbed his eyes blearily and looked over.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

“I had a nightmare,” Neal explained.

Graham pulled Neal into a hug and nuzzled into his hair, already halfway to falling back to sleep. “You can stay here. Whatever it was, I’ll keep you safe.”

Neal didn’t much rate Graham’s chances against the Dark One, but he appreciated the sentiment, and was able to sleep easier.

Graham had grown used to waking up in the morning alone. The first thing he noticed was the arm across his stomach and his whole body tensed. But then he pieced together the events of the night before, and realised it was just Neal. And that was okay. More than okay, in fact.

-

Graham liked to be close to nature, and walks in the forest were something he did often. This one, he returned from with his hair messy, his face and clothing covered in mud, blood on his fingers and tears in his eyes, and a baby fox wrapped up in his jumper and cradled against his chest.

“Someone’s been setting out snares,” he explained. “Her mother got caught and I couldn’t…” his voice cracked. “I couldn’t save her.”

Neal rushed forward and hugged Graham close, taking care not to crush the fox in his arms. “You tried your best. That’s all anyone could ask of you.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“You can’t ever save everyone,” Neal pulled away and looked at the bundle of orange fur cuddling against Graham’s chest. “You saved this little one, at least.”

“She needs a name.”

“You go have a bath,” Neal said, already reaching to take the baby fox from him, “and I’ll try to come up with a name.”

He sat with the little creature in his arms, singing under his breath a lullaby that his mother once sung to him, long ago. Graham was in the bath for a long time once he’d carried the heated water through to the tub, though honestly Neal hadn’t expected any different. Baths were relaxing, and the poor guy was obviously shaken up.

Graham eventually emerged from the bathroom with a towel tied around his waist, and it was all Neal could do not to stare and imagine what it was hiding.

“Have you thought of a name?” he asked, oblivious.

“Yeah,” Neal looked down at the bundle and smiled fondly. “How does Emma sound to you?”

Graham laughed. “I once knew a woman named Emma.”

“Me too,” Neal’s head snapped up to look at him. “Emma Swan?”

“That’s the one,” Graham confirmed. “She was wonderful. The first person I’d seen stand up to Regina in a long while and live to tell the tale.”

“She was definitely wonderful,” Neal agreed. “I actually, uh, had a kid with her.”

“No!” Graham’s surprise was evident. “You’re Henry’s father?”

“You know my son, too?” Neal remembered that Graham had mentioned living in Storybrooke during the curse. “Figures.”

“He’s a bright kid,” Graham smiled. “You should be proud.”

“I am,” he couldn’t help but smile, too. He hadn’t been as much a part of Henry’s life as he would’ve wanted, but in the short space of time he’d known his son, he’d been nothing but impressed. “Back to Emma.”

“I never had a kid with her, if that’s what you’re asking. We never got further than kissing. I sort of… died. During our make-out session.”

“Poor Emma.” He tried not to imagine Emma crying, cradling Graham’s lifeless body and trying desperately to shake him awake, confused and alone. He failed miserably. “But no, I meant this one,” he shifted the fox slightly in his arms.

“Oh,” Graham’s face lit up with fondness as he looked at the little bundle. “Yes, I think it suits her. Emma Swan was the only one I felt was looking out for me back when I was alive. It’d be nice to have a little bit of her here.”

“Hear that?” Neal asked the baby fox. “Your new name is Emma. Do you like that?” She yawned sleepily. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

-

Neal knew the exact moment he realised that he was in love with Graham Humbert.

Graham had woken early (strange man, liked to be up at dawn) and was outside the cabin with little Emma. They seemed to be playing tag, or some variant of it, and Neal watched from the doorway in his pyjamas.

Graham caught up to the fox cub, who was growing a little every day, and ruffled her fur affectionately. He scooped her up, kissed the slope of her nose, and turned to face Neal.

“I love you,” Neal said impulsively.

Graham’s jaw dropped, and Neal wanted to kick himself. Really hard.

As Graham approached, Neal made way for him to get through the door, embarrassed and refusing to make eye contact.

Graham pressed a kiss to Neal’s cheek as he passed. “Love you, too.”

-

After that initial acknowledgement, things were easy.

Neal snuck up behind Graham while he was cooking and wrapped his arms around his waist, kissed his neck.

Graham would leave an extra set of pyjamas at the foot of his bed for Neal to change into when he inevitably followed him a little while later.

When it became clear that Neal didn’t actually need his own separate bed, they converted it into a place for Emma to sleep.

Life was good. They were just two dead men, with a fox for a daughter and a little house in the forest. It was the happiest either of them had been in a long while.

They were surprised when an invitation to Tamara and Greg’s wedding was slipped under their door, but went along anyway. Tamara was beautiful in her dress, white and covered in ornate black lace, and Greg honestly couldn’t have looked happier.

“We should get married,” Graham said, after the ceremony.

“Is that your way of proposing?”

“I can buy a ring and get down on one knee if you like.”

“No, no,” Neal smiled and took his hand. “It’s perfect. I love you. Let’s get married.”

During the after party, Tamara sought them out. They congratulated her, and Graham told her she looked stunning, but Tamara just thanked them and brushed the compliments aside.

“I know news doesn’t always reach you in the middle of nowhere,” she said, “but I thought you’d want to know this. It’s about Emma Swan.”

Graham and Neal shared a concerned look.

“Is she dead?” Neal asked.

“No, nothing like that.” Both men relaxed slightly. “She’s taking a team to the Underworld. Apparently she’s rescuing her true love?”

There was a time when hearing those words would have hurt Neal, but it was passed. “Hook?”

“Killian?”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Neal nodded. “Is he in… the other place?”

Tamara shrugged. “He doesn’t seem to be here.”

“How can Emma get to the Underworld if she isn’t dead?” Graham cut in, confused.

“With great difficultly, I imagine,” Tamara replied. “It’s going to be even harder to get back. The Underworld is controlled by Hades, and he isn’t exactly known for letting people go easily.”

“I need to warn her,” Neal decided.

“How?”

“I’ll find a witch or a wizard or something. There has to be at least one here, somewhere.”

“I’d start with Ingrid,” Tamara suggested. “She runs the ice-cream place in town. Her speciality is ice magic, but she talks about Emma often. I’m sure she’d be willing to help.”

-

Neal and Graham found Ingrid’s ice-cream shop quite easily. Tamara had given them directions, and even without them, there weren’t an awful lot of ice-cream parlours in the afterlife.

Neal explained all that Tamara had told him, and Ingrid listened with interest.

“We can’t let her go through with this!” she said, when he was finished. “Hades will never allow her to leave!”

“I think I can convince her to turn back around,” Neal assured her, “or at least try, anyway. Emma can be really stubborn.” Ingrid and Graham both nodded knowingly. “I don’t know the spell to get through to her, though.”

“Where do you live?” Ingrid asked. “I’ll look around for something that might be of use and come find you.”

Graham drew her a little map on a post-it pad. “It’s quite out of the way.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Ingrid said as she studied the map. “I think I can get here.”

-

She was knocking on the door to their cabin that very evening, clutching a large book to her chest.

“I found a spell to get you into her dream,” Ingrid explained, “or rather, pull her into yours temporarily. It’s better that nothing, but I’m going to need to put you to sleep.”

They went through to the bedroom and helped Neal get comfortable. Ingrid waited for him to settle, and then rested a glowing blue hand against his forehead, charging his dream with the magic needed to contact Emma Swan.

Little Emma entered the room, looking around curiously, and Graham scooped her up and popped her on the bed, too.

“Who’s this?” Ingrid asked, watching the fox out the corner of her eye.

“We called her Emma, actually.” Graham said, grinning.

The fox nuzzled into Neal’s chest and tugged the fabric of his t-shirt.

“I can see the resemblance,” Ingrid said thoughtfully, reaching down with her free hand to lift up the fox and pass her back to Graham. “He won’t stay asleep for long if she’s so intent on waking him up, though.”

“Noted,” Graham held the wriggling ball of fur tightly against his chest and settled against the headboard, watching as Neal’s eyelids fluttered slightly in his sleep. “How long will he be asleep for?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done this kind of spell before.”

“Am I gonna have to kiss him awake?”

Ingrid hummed thoughtfully. “We’ll see.”

__-_ _

When contacting Emma Swan in a dream, it only made sense for Neal to place them in her yellow bug.

He surprised her from the back seat, like he’d done all those years ago when they first met, and moved round to sit in the passenger seat beside her.

She didn’t heed his warning. If he was being honest with himself, he never really expected her to, but he had to try all the same. He inquired after Henry. _His_ _son_. Seeing Emma face-to-face brought everything back.

He was holding it together until she started crying. He’d never been able to handle seeing her upset.

“Help me,” she begged. “I can split my heart and give it to him. It could work.”

“The Underworld is for people with unfinished business, and that isn’t me.” Denying her aid broke his heart a little. “That’s why I’m not there.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m someplace,” Neal felt himself grinning, even though part of him still wanted to break down in tears. “Someplace where I’m happy.” Emma smiled, sighed, visibly relieved. “I only came here because I care about you, Emma. Stop what you’re doing before it’s too late.”

“I can’t.”

He winced, but it became a smile, because this was Emma through and through. “I figured. But I had to try.”

There was something pulling him away, urging him to wake up, and Neal leaned in to kiss Emma tenderly on the forehead. A goodbye. She reached forward to stroke his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, Emma,” he pulled away from her. “I always have and I always will.”

He climbed out of the car and walked away, only succumbing to the pull back to the realm of the waking when he was sure he was out of Emma’s line of sight.

The first thing he realised as he came to was Graham’s lips against his, the fact that they were moving away from him as Graham sat up. He was tempted to follow him, claim a second kiss- one that he was actually awake for- but Ingrid was still standing at the bedside and he didn’t want to make things awkward.

“How do you feel?” she asked in her soothing voice.

“I’m fine,” he said. He realised they were still tears in his eyes and moved to wipe them with the back of his hand as he sat up. “Things got pretty emotional, but I’m alright _ _ _.”_ _ _

“Did you find Emma?” Graham asked, handing him a tissue, which he took gratefully.

“Yeah,” he swiped at the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, I did.”

“And did she heed your advice?” Ingrid pressed. Neal shook his head. “Foolish girl.” She closed her spell-book and lifted it to her chest. “We tried our hardest. I’ll see if I can find anything else that might aid her quest, since she’s so set on it.”

“If there’s anything we can do to help,” Graham said, guiding Ingrid toward the door, little Emma still in his arms, “you know where we are.”

Once Ingrid was gone, Graham replaced Emma on the bed and crawled up beside Neal, letting her nudge him and tug at his shirt to her heart’s content this time.

“Seriously,” Graham said, reaching over to cup Neal’s face gently, “are you alright?”

Neal turned to place a chaste peck on the palm of Graham’s hand. “She asked me where I was now.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told her I was someplace happy.”

“Glad to be of service,” Graham leaned in to kiss Neal, breaking away only when little Emma started pawing at him frustratedly.

“I think someone wants her dinner,” Neal laughed.

“Or she just doesn’t want to witness her dads making out?” Graham suggested.

“That works, too.”


End file.
